(And a polar bear hides behind my epiglottis)

There are bees in my teeth
and oceans underneath
and no-one knows the way to Cleopatra

I have sunken all I can
in the way a salmon swam
down the triple-plated
gorges full of panthers.

Now tell me dearest Bethany
how far is it to go
to the show downtown
to find a man called Clancy?

He has stolen all my shoes,
my lights and shades and hues
and here now in the darkness
all I fancy

is the grinding of my teeth
to alleviate the crease
which has stayed too long
and made my necktie sandy.

But as often it is not
like the way the cuckoo clock
chimes in time with rhymes
of great importance for the country,

so tonight I must begone
and to Poland carry on
my legacy of cardboard matrimony.

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Diet advice isn’t the only thing you can’t take-away from this smörgåsbord of the bazaar.

I want a piece of custard; a nutritious curd,
hydrated bugs infused with fish –
you know the drill.

I want chiffon fragments and gifts of pizza,
tartan keychains in a hardback lunchbox.
The finest samples of hydrocarbon, fission, and cucumber oocytes.

Bring me the harsh, fresh hugs of a gazebo,
a FedEx’d bottle of best-selling sushi –
numb and tax deductible.

Wash it all down with cargo,
guest-houses overloaded with crumbling hedgehogs,
the graphene-enriched fragrance of stucco.

Talk to me like a dragon
from Saatchi & Saatchi
(in Yeovil) –

But never tell me
that Kahn iced UNESCO.

A candle cannot hold itself to its own splendour, especially at both ends.

A candle is an item of celebratory importance, disguised as a traditional impairment on the rest of civilization. We hold parties and fragrances within its flickering light, biased against the darkness of our souls, but ultimately forfeiting our right to sanity due to the impermanence of its existence.

We bask in its glory, in its wonderland brevity, all clustered around like shrouded minions at the king’s doorstep. It can not bring enough joy! There are only so many hours in the day, the candle is awake for only a fractional displacement of the allotted time.

The candle is our saving grace, our fulfillment of the highest wishes of our insignificant minds, the glory to end all glories, so much so that the mere mention of a candle will have the entirety of humankind writhing in apostasy on the floor.

Let not this postulation affect your heads! Let not this commandment of grandeur turn your thoughts into mush! Be faithful to the candle, be faithful to the light inside, be faithful to the flame of your heart and push back the darkness from your sanctimonious insolence.